


Lemonade Money

by quamquam20



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cam Girl Rey, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Jealousy, Masturbation, One Shot, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Vaginal Fingering, Youtube Comment Hate, Youtuber Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quamquam20/pseuds/quamquam20
Summary: Ben's YouTube cooking channel takes off for all the wrong reasons. Thankfully, his roommate is there to help.“They asked for a lemonade recipe,” he explains.Rey gives him a withering look.“They want to see you juicing lemons.” At his blank expression, she keeps going, enunciating each word slowly. “Because they like your hands.”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 125
Kudos: 617
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Lemonade Money

Rain clatters against the window in driving waves as Ben re-reads the comments on his most recent upload. He's trying not to stare at his post-run roommate, who is currently happily soaked with sweat and rain as she stretches on the floor of their apartment's living room. The leggings and cropped tank top aren't helping, and the downpour has made the fabric transparent.

The comments are a barrage. What's usually just a few people saying “ _Great recipe! Hubby loved it and even asked for seconds!!_ ” or guys rudely and incorrectly critiquing his knife skills has transformed overnight into... something else.

“What's a simp?” he asks.

Rey puffs up her cheeks and blows it out as she deepens her hamstring stretch.

“YouTube channel getting some fans?” she asks, words muffled by her thigh and he is _not_ going to think about how flexible she is until he's alone in his room.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging the word out uncertainly. “I think?”

“Read me some.” Rey walks her hands out in front of her.

He hesitates. Maybe he's imagining things, but for a video about cake the comments seem a bit erotic.

“ _I've never wanted to be a cake so bad in my entire life.”_

Rey's eyes twinkle and maybe this will be worth it.

“This is for the one you uploaded on Wednesday?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He continues. “ _Why don't you frost me instead?_ ”

Rey throws her head back and laughs.

“These are great,” she says when she recovers.

“ _You should take those fingers and—"_ He stops, reading ahead. He was right and these are somehow sexual. “Nope, not that one.”

“Come onnnn,” Rey pleads. She's standing now, on tiptoes like she's trying to reach their ceiling, the tight grooves of her abs disappearing into the waistband of her leggings.

It's weirdly comforting to share these with someone he knows, like he's not going crazy and people are leaving weird comments on a video framed specifically to show nothing above his elbows.

“Fine.” He mumbles through it, the hidden edges of his ears flaming with embarrassment. “ _You should take those fingers and slide them between the layers and fuck the whole cake until it's a mashed-up mess.”_

Rey bends her arm behind her head and pulls on her elbow to work on her triceps. She nods clinically.

“There's still some left in the fridge if you want to,” she says, pausing to switch arms. “I was going to eat it for dinner, but it's your cake.”

“Everything I make is for both of us,” Ben reminds her, setting his laptop on the coffee table. He gets up to bring a forgotten mug to the sink, empty except for a soggy teabag at the bottom. Definitely Rey's work, even though it's in his favorite mug. “And I'm not going to fuck our cake.” He shakes the cold teabag out into the garbage can.

“You can fuck our cake, Ben,” she says from the other room. “It's what the people want.”

He lets the trash can's metal lid slam shut, muffled by the neatly tucked white garbage bag. There's a flaw in her plan and he leans out over the kitchen counter so he can enjoy the win.

“What would you have for dinner?” He watches her twist out her wireless earbuds and slot them back into their charging case with a snap.

Rey rolls her eyes as she brushes past him into the kitchen. “Well if you don't come in it, the cake.”

He can't remember how to breathe. They joke like this sometimes, and every time keeps him going for days.

“Gross.” He says it because he's supposed to. That's the next line. She smells like her shampoo and lickable fresh sweat.

“Don't sell yourself short.” She casts an appraising look that makes him feel completely fucking naked. Rey rips open a banana and takes a bite, thinking as she chews. “It's a really good cake.”

“Thanks,” he manages to choke out before he has to clear his throat. The faucet handles squeak as he turns them. “What I don't get is why everything's horny all of a sudden,” he says over the splashing water. “I did what I always do.”

“You probably got linked somewhere.” She watches him wash the mug, cascades of suds dripping from his hands. “I can do some digging.”

“Yeah, do that, and then I want you to tell me what a simp is so I don't have to fucking google it like a dad.”

Rey gives him another once-over and scrunches up her face.

“You are kind of old.” She spins around in time to avoid the soapy water he flicks at her, but doesn't leave. “Want to try that new Thai place? The reviews are good. I'll pick it up.”

What he wants to do is bend her over the counter and—

“Yeah, Thai sounds good.”

* * *

Juice puddles on the wooden cutting board and Rey is gawking, almost tipping the bowl of grapes that she's taking from the fridge. The bare stem of a half-eaten bunch pokes out above the ceramic rim like winter branches.

He didn't pick her as a roommate. Or he did, but it never really felt like a choice. He needed to move fast to snap up the apartment — perfect location, great kitchen, lots of space compared to what he was used to. At the time, rent had been just out of reach, even after running some numbers and tightening the belt. Plenty of responses, but he was picky. She would keep to herself, she promised. Busy with work and friends, and a big fan of privacy. A standoffishness, even prickliness, that softened over time into something that always left him wanting more.

“They asked for a lemonade recipe,” he explains.

Rey gives him a withering look.

“They want to see you juicing lemons.” At his blank expression, she keeps going, enunciating each word slowly. “Because they like your hands.”

_Ah._

He stops, fingers drenched in sticky lemon juice and sprayed with fragrant lemon oil from the rinds.

“Should I... keep going?”

“Oh, I don't know, Ben. Do you like money and views?”

“Yeah.”

“Then squeeze away.”

He looks down at the pulpy mess he's made in their kitchen. His nose is itchy. He scrunches it, trying to relieve the sensation.

“Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up.”

“You always do,” Rey says.

The itching gets worse. He brings his arm up to rub his nose against his t-shirt sleeve.

“You alright?” Rey asks.

“Yeah, I just...” She steps closer. “Stop, I got it.” It makes him dizzy when she gets too close and he needs to concentrate on making strangers horny on the internet.

“Am I being gross?” he asks.

“I mean, don't wipe your nose on your clothing in a professional kitchen. But it's just our apartment so— ”

“No, like is what I'm doing wrong? Now that I know.”

Rey rocks her head from side to side. Ben watches her neck flex and already knows that he's disgusting because he wants to suck on it.

“I wouldn't necessarily brag about it at Thanksgiving dinner, but you're making a lot of people happy. And not hurting anybody.”

She's got a point. But he started a cooking channel, not a hand fetish site.

“Maybe I should just get an OnlyCams,” he says, knocking a stuck-on seed from the back of his hand into the sink behind him.

The color drains from Rey's face.

“Do you go on that?” Her tone is artificially light, almost squeaky and he immediately regrets saying it.

“No, I...” He just thinks about her. Finds clips of people who look like her. Studies the way she bends down to pick up her shoes when she vacuums the entryway, and locks it away in his memory for later. But, in his defense, he's never let it affect how he acts around her. He hopes. “No,” he finishes lamely.

“That's not a bad idea, actually. You'd make more money,” she says, relief smoothing her words. Ben stares at her in disbelief. “For the cooking, I mean. And hand stuff.”

“Hand stuff?”

“Fuck. Not like that. Unless you wanted to, I mean.” She's stumbling again, and the color that disappeared from her cheeks comes rushing back. “It's not my business.”

Ben grins and goes back to squishing the lemon.

“Uh huh. Why my hands though?”

Rey pops a grape into her mouth and talks around it. “They're big. Like, really big.”

His palm is glistening when he inspects it. “They seem normal.”

“Because they're yours.” Another grape, packed into her cheek. “And from what I read, people like that you keep your nails short.”

“So?” Juicing makes vulgar sounds, he realizes too late, with an unmistakable slopping suction as he folds the rind in half.

Rey's eyes are locked on what he's doing. He gives a few quick, rhythmic squeezes and manages not to laugh until Rey throws a grape at him as hard as she can and it bounces harmlessly off of his shoulder.

“Benjamin _fucking_ Solo!” Her face is blazing, even while she tries to scold him.

“And there's the name for it. You're great at this.”

“I'm calling your mother.”

“She'll agree that it's a good name,” he says, reaching for another lemon. “And you don't even have her number.”

“Yes, I do,” Rey says, lifting her chin triumphantly. “From that flea market last year. Everyone was worried I'd get lost.”

“You did get lost,” he points out, cutting the lemon smoothly in half.

“I got _separated_. And I found the funnel cake truck so maybe you were the ones who were lost.” Rey watches as he picks up the citrus reamer and she changes the subject, pointing. “You should zoom in for that part.”

“You think?”

Rey adjusts the camera, an almost intuitive movement and he's immediately suspicious.

“Use a camera a lot, Rey?”

She smiles blissfully and he feels it in his stomach.

“Just for work,” she says, picking up her bowl of grapes again. “And if you need help making an account, let me know.”

Ben freezes, watching her walk into her room and close the door with a click.

One thing's for sure.

Editing this is going to be a nightmare.

* * *

“Today I'm going to try making funnel cake. I've never done it before but my roommate loves it and it seems easy enough. They're out of town at the moment, so this is a practice run in case I mess it up the first time. Alright, let's get started.”

It's autoplaying in another tab as he scrolls through comments, heart racing.

“ _Is your roommate as hot as you? Let's see his hands at least.”_

He'd responded. Like an idiot.

“ _My roommate's a her, actually. Thanks for watching!”_

He should've just thrown a live grenade. The response is torrential and vicious. And profoundly confusing.

“ _What kind of a slut lives with a guy she's not even dating? You deserve better. You deserve a modest godly woman who knows that JESUS is LORD and that she should be the one cooking for YOU.”_

“ _I hope she chokes and fucking dies.”_

Ben swallows hard, eyes skimming faster and faster, like it won't be so bad if he reads it quickly. It doesn't even sound like the same people.

Maybe it's not.

“ _Don't cook for that bitch!!!!!! Cum cook for meee ;)”_

And finally, the one that tips him over the edge. The one that he pins. In a long string of derisive bullshit comments about Rey, there's one, inundated with likes:

“ _FUCK her.”_

He doesn't know why he does it. He feels helpless and so, so angry that he's shaking with adrenaline as he types.

“ _I'd love to. Thanks for the suggestion.”_

* * *

He's on his second Old Fashioned when Rey comes back.

She glances around the living room and kitchen, taking in his slumped posture, the muted show he didn't even bother to pause when it went to the next episode, the counter cluttered with bottles and half-peeled oranges.

“What happened?”

“People are assholes, Rey.” Ben tilts his glass, listening to the relaxing clink of ice. “That's what happened.”

She drops her bag by the door. Whatever she keeps in it is heavy and it hits the floor with a thud. Not bothering to kick off her shoes, she rushes over and sits down to worriedly rub his arm. She's so nice when he needs it and it makes everything worse because this is undeniably his fault.

“I'm not drunk,” he assures her. Maybe it looks worse to her than it is, with dimmed lights and his second-day sweatpants.

Rey brushes his hair back from his eyes, searching his face. “Okay.”

“I fucked up in the comments section on the new upload. They found out my roommate's a woman.”

Rey's sharp inhale through her teeth is all the admonishment he needs.

“Why the fuck should that matter?” he asks, angry again. Not at her but for her. There's some unspoken rule that he broke and he doesn't understand. “If they want to get off to a stranger's hands while he makes bread, fine. Whatever. Why do they care?”

Rey points to his drink. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” He passes it to her. As upset as he is, he still hopes she likes it. She takes a sip.

“They pretend you're theirs, Ben. That's how it works for the ones who get too involved.”

She's wearing perfume that has mostly faded from her skin throughout the day, leaving only the deepest base notes that cling close. Ben leans in a little, in spite of himself. She smells warm.

Rey takes another sip and passes the glass back to him. If she notices that he's closer, she doesn't comment on it.

“And that's really delicious,” she says. “You can always start over with a cocktail channel.”

“Thanks.” He takes a long pull, hoping that his mouth is near where hers was on the rim. “Why do they do that?”

She shrugs. “I think it's like how crushes work. When most people want somebody, they don't like to share. Although...” She trails off, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Some _really_ do.”

“Do you?”

He would swear that she has her own light. Even when she's annoyed. “That's quite personal.”

“I know.” He breathes her in, lets her slip out of answering the question.

“It's like this, Ben. Imagine that there is someone online.”

“Yeah.” He's already imagining it's her because he's pretty sure she does this. Condensation drips down the outside of the glass.

“You like how she looks and sounds. She does very specific things that you love. You tell her you enjoy those things, maybe give her some money or attention, and she does them more. It feels like it's for you, like she's trying to make you happy. Even though it's not true.”

Ben wipes the bottom of the glass off on his knee and the water darkens the gray fabric. He's trying so hard not to imagine Rey grinning on her bed while strangers tip her. And most of them just want to see her tits, but some of them want her.

“Yeah,” he says.

“And _then_ you find out that, this whole time, she was living with some guy. Not another fan or subscriber. Just a guy. Everything she recorded and it was for you, had a guy on the other side of the wall. They share a bathroom and a coffee maker and a sofa. Their coats are hanging next to each other in a closet.” She gestures to the apartment around them.

Ben takes another drink and holds it in his mouth while he forms a response. Rey fluffs a pillow and tosses it behind her, confident that she's made her point.

“I wouldn't care,” he says finally. “Maybe he's gay. Maybe it's her cousin. Maybe she's not his type, or he's not hers.”

Rey taps him on the chest. “Those are all reasons why he wouldn't be fucking her. So it _would_ bother you.”

Exasperated, he rubs his eyes.

“Just living with someone doesn't mean you want to sleep with them, Rey.”

She stiffens at that, the slightest drawing back of her shoulders, and he's so sorry.

“No, it doesn't,” she says. She's agreeing but it sounds like the end of conversations they haven't even had yet and he really wants to undo it. But Rey is checking the time on her phone.

“I'll be in my room,” she says, standing. Without thinking, he takes her by the wrist, gently, just to get her attention and keep her there for a few seconds longer. He can't look at her.

“Are you doing a live thing?” His voice doesn't even sound like his, it's so quiet.

She hesitates, then relaxes under his hand with a long sigh that sounds like she's releasing a burden. “Yes.”

He has to ask it fast or he'll lose his nerve.

“Can I watch?”

Rey is completely still. He looks up at her, finally, only to see that her lips are parted and the reflections of the vapid show he was watching are moving in her shining eyes as she stares at him.

“You watched me,” he says, letting go of her wrist so she won't feel trapped.

“Ben, you were making ravioli.”

“And what are you doing?” It doesn't sound nosy. It sounds like he's begging.

Rey sets her jaw.

“Trying out a few of the seventeen things I've been sent in the last month.”

 _There_ it is. There's the jealously she was trying to get him to dig up earlier. Hypotheticals didn't do it for him, but this does.

“They send you gifts?”

“You get gifts, too,” she fires back.

“Unsolicited generic nudes someone found on Google Images aren't gifts, Rey. What kind of things do you get?”

Rey crams her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, clamps, paddles with their names on them, cuffs, lingerie, gags, hoods, hooks, tails, diapers, water bowls, shoes,” she rattles off as she walks over to get her purse. “I can keep going.”

“Did you say diapers?”

“Oh, was that you?” she asks sarcastically.

“Please, Rey. I'll pay double the biggest tip you get.” He's sweating thinking about it, and he's already fucked everything up so much, he should just keep going. “I'll sit in the corner. No one will even see me. I'll be completely professional.”

Rey is biting her lip to stop from smiling, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“If you want to tip me that much money,” she says, handing it to him. “You can do it where they can all see. It boosts my stats. And you're _not_ my roommate. My roommate is an athletic blonde with a tinkling laugh and a Pilates addiction, which explains why she's never home. Got it?”

Ben has vertigo. He's looking at Rey's username, written in her familiar scrawl and it cannot be real but it makes his cock twitch anyway.

“Wait, how much are we talking?”

Rey leans down to sweep her thumb affectionately over his cheek and the contact is enough to leave his head swimming. Or maybe the Old Fashioned is finally hitting him, but he's stone cold sober and this is something else.

“I'm going to take all of your lemonade money, Ben,” Rey says apologetically. “At least.”

When she walks to her door, it's all so weirdly familiar, even though they're deep into uncharted territory. Her purse is slung over her shoulder, hair up with loose pieces that drift around her face, and she even turns and gives him the same little goodnight wave that she always has since she moved in.

Numbly, he waves back. It's more muscle memory than anything else and after her door clicks shut, he doesn't know what to do. He should just stay out here, far away from his computer. Turn down the volume on the TV and find where he stopped paying attention. Maybe make another drink and try to ignore the fact that his completely fuckable roommate who he is pretty sure he's in love with is easing a plug into her ass while strangers watch.

But all of the blood that he really needs to be in his brain is currently in his cock, and instead of doing any of those reasonable things, he sloshes a few swigs of bourbon into his nearly empty glass and goes into his room.

* * *

He can be professional about this. It's research. Rey has obviously been doing this for a while, and all of her advice so far has been very helpful. There's still a lot for him to learn.

She's just smiling and talking, wearing a tanktop that lets the lacy edge of something black underneath peek out. Waving at the camera and thanking people, she looks comfortable. On his second monitor, he even opens the spreadsheet he uses to keep track of video ideas for his channel, and starts a new heading for cocktails.

 _See,_ he tells himself. _It's research._ Jacking off and spreadsheets don't mix.

It's odd to hear her voice coming from his headphones as he works, instead of through his open door while she paces through the apartment, chatting with her friends on the phone. She always tries to be quiet when she walks past, even though he's told her countless times that he doesn't mind.

He wants to cook for her. It's a sudden urge and there's enough distance to let thoughts flow freely.

She's getting a few tips, mostly in the five to ten dollar range as she combs her fingers distractedly through her hair and slicks on lip balm. It's nothing he hasn't seen before. He sends her twenty bucks.

She leans in to look at her screen and he stifles a laugh when she has to hide her reaction to his username.

“Wow, thank you for that, FuckingSolo. I see you're a new subscriber as well.” The look she gives the camera convinces him that she's going to hang the next roll of toilet paper the wrong way, on purpose. “Did you have a question for me?” She purrs it and he can almost believe it's real.

“ _Do you like your brownies cakey or fudgy?”_

“Ummmm,” she plays with her bottom lip, thinking. It's a performance. The Rey he knows doesn't hesitate, especially when it comes to food. “Fudgy, because I like to lick it off of my fingers.”

She demonstrates, with full eye contact, and the chat explodes with tips and likes and comments. There's the irrational part of him that wants to tell them that she did it for him, not them. Instead he jots the discovery down in his spreadsheet, next to quick notes of the things he remembers her liking. Carbonara, peach sorbet. Once she ate an entire bag of garlic ranch croutons before she'd even unpacked the rest of the groceries. He goes through the whole list, reordering and adding a few random video ideas so she won't be suspicious that everything he does is for her, somehow.

Rey's breathing gets uneven in his ear. One side of his headphones is against his neck so he can hear ambient sounds. He won't look. Starts searching for crouton recipes like they're something more complicated than tiny pieces of toasted bread.

Rey lets out a little gasp and a sigh, and if he had to guess, he'd say a plug just slid into place. He grips his cock through his sweatpants as he scrolls through pictures of cubed ciabatta and in any other context, he would look like an absolute freak.

“Rob, you always send me the best gifts,” she murmurs and he lets go of his dick like it burned him.

_Who the fuck is Rob?_

Ben spins his chair to face the monitor and he's not sure what he expected to see, but it wasn't Rey licking a vibrator before it disappears off screen. The buzzing gets muffled and she jolts a little. He's spent so many mornings thinking about her tits, about how he could almost fit the whole thing in his mouth, and now they're just barely hidden by black lace. Her skin is flushed like when she leaves the bathroom after a long shower.

He tips fifty dollars and he won't touch himself until she says his name instead of Rob's. She looks at the screen — he _knows_ she sees it — but she doesn't respond beyond turning up the intensity on the vibrator, the pitch changing.

Breathing faster, unsteadily, she's getting close. His cock is leaking precome, starting to soak through the crotch of his sweatpants. He unties the drawstring and pulls them down impatiently, not counting the way his cock bounces against his stomach as touching it.

Soft moans and closed eyes, and he can't look away, until—

Rey turns off the vibrator, turning quickly like she's startled. It would be convincing if he didn't know that absolutely nothing was happening in their apartment.

“Sorry, guys,” she says quietly, lips pink as she moves closer to the camera. “I think my roommate just came back. I don't want her to hear me.”

The chat ignites again, small tips and encouraging her to be loud anyway. Ben shakes his head at the screen in disbelief. She's playing these dumbasses perfectly and they love every second of it.

“Guys, no. It'll make things awkward.” She's practically whispering and he lets his eyes drift shut, pretending that it's in his ear. “We're friends. One time last summer, we went to her family's lake house and my bathing suit top came untied while we were in the water. She still teases me about it.”

The chime that sounds when someone sends a tip is a constant ringing, and he already knows what the messages are like without opening his eyes.

“ _She's totally into you. That's how girls flirt. She'd like to hear you cum. Just act like it was an accident and you didn't know she was back.”_

“ _Roommate loved it, that's why she keeps bringing it up. You have the best tits.”_

“ _She wants to fuck you.”_

Rey giggles, and it's so weird to hear it coming from her that he grimaces.

“I don't want to, but I did say that if we reach the goal, I'll do it.” Ben's eyes fly open. “For all of my new subscribers, I have a game that we play if my roommate's home when I stream. If we pass that goal in tips— ” She pauses to point vaguely at the sidebar. “ —I'll come as loud as I do when she's not here. The person who gets us to the goal picks what I say.”

It feels like someone is sitting on his chest because he can't draw a full breath. He's never heard her come before. They have. When he wasn't here.

Ben scrolls through the chat to find the amount. It's easy since everyone's asking.

Two thousand fucking dollars. He doesn't know what they're at and he can't think.

“I know it's a lot of money, Dan,” Rey is saying, smiling as she plays with the black satin straps on her shoulders. “I don't want to reach the goal. That's the point. And I know you'll make me say something awful.”

 _That_ is Rey. Clever and sharp, her expression wide open.

“And there is just one gift left to show you tonight,” she says, reaching over to where he knows there's a small table with drawers and he just always assumed it was full of makeup or miscellaneous chargers, but now he knows better. “This is from...” Rey turns her head to the side to read the tag. “Oh, it's from you, Ashley!” She sounds genuinely delighted and it reminds him of the Christmases he wants to give her. “Thank you! That's so sweet — I've wanted one of these since I saw the video of you trying it out. Guys, if you haven't seen that one... just pause this and go watch it. It's in my favorites. I promise you'll love it.” Rey beams at the rows of hearts and exclamation marks Ashley leaves in the chat and if Ben could take screenshots, that's the one he would want. Even if Rey is about to use a toy that someone else bought her.

The dark purple silicone vibrator is smooth and curved at the tip. She angles the camera down, and the lace and satin thing she's wearing covers her torso but it's open between her legs. She's not totally spread when she brings the vibrator to her clit, but there's a patch of trimmed hair and her perfect thighs and Ben is immediately regretting his decision to not jerk off to this because of names and weird guilt. Clenching his muscles, his cock bobs, and maybe he could do it like this and still technically not touch himself. The vibrator leaves her clit to tease her opening, just out of view, and she seems so unreachable that he almost forgets it's her on the other side of the wall. In the glow from his monitors, the tip of his cock is shining with precome as he thrusts emptily into the air.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” Rey whispers shakily. He can only hear it through the headphones and he hates that she's going to get off quietly in the room next to his while he watches. Frantic with it, he makes a vague plan to pretend to leave so she'll be loud. But all he actually does is reach over, chair creaking, and pull a few tissues out of the box he keeps close by. They're for cleaning up after he blows a load to another identical, oiled-up massage video. Never for this — this is on a different level. This feels real. Rey moans, and claps her hand over her mouth.

No, he needs it right now. He glances at the tip tally in the chat: they're almost nine hundred dollars away from the goal and he can't do math and he can't fucking _think_ so he just types in a round number that's big and he definitely has and will let him hear her.

And sends Rey a thousand dollars.

The chat explodes. It gets Rey's attention and he already loves it. Tips pour in, claiming that they were the one who put them over, but she's turning off the vibrator. When she checks to see who it was, her eyes snap to the camera and it goes straight to his leaking cock and it's the single best idea he's ever had. She looks terrified and he's not sure if she's pretending for strangers or if she was telling herself that he stopped watching. The way she gulps moves her whole throat and it seems so real that he almost feels bad. But there's an intoxicating rush of conquest and now he understands how people lose their houses for this shit. Why women sincerely tell him they'll leave their husbands for him.

Rey blinks and seems to remember the audience.

“Alright, what am I going to be shouting to wake my roommate up?”

They throw more tips at her, crowding the chat with their suggestions, like he just spent a grand for no goddamn reason and needs help coming up with something.

He types it fast. It's short and he's been ready.

“ _Ben.”_

She nods like she's been given a mission, and glances at the wall between their bedrooms. To them, it just seems like she's nervous. To him, it feels like he's going to come. He stares at the wall until he hears the vibrator turn on. Rey is cranking it up, like she wants to get it over with, but her eyes are locked on the wall and she's breathing hard.

He's not going to make it. He's going to pass out and she'll find him with his fist packed with tissues and his balls full of come. Letting his hand hang in the air, ready to grip his cock the moment his name leaves her mouth, it's like someone else is living his life. Her toes are curling and she's shaking and when she throws her head back, he wants to grab her by the hair and make her look into his eyes. Her moaning is so loud, he hears it through the wall and through the headphones, and she rips the vibrator out to lean back, spread, while she mashes it roughly to her clit. Her muscles are contracting, and the plug is still in her ass, and this definitely isn't what she usually does because the chat is fucking exploding, and over all of that he hears what he absolutely, essentially, must hear.

His name, her mouth. Loud. _So_ loud. More than once.

The ache is so bad that he almost can't tell that he's fucking his hand until the rhythm of it starts to build up in his hips and legs. He wants to come on her face, on the screen. But she's panicking and saying shit about her roommate getting up and being in the hallway and they love that because more money is rolling in, even after she disconnects abruptly.

A knock at his door.

“It's unlocked,” he manages to get out and it's some kind of adolescent instinct, but he's scrambling to pull his sweatpants up and tuck his throbbing cock up into the waistband to hide it all. He throws the unused wad of tissues into the trash can beneath his desk.

Rey catches the arms of his chair as he spins around. She's gasping, eyes dark, bent over to search his face.

“Was that you?” she demands.

“Of course it was me, Rey— ”

Her lips are burning against his and it's almost too rough to be a kiss. She's dragging him up with her hands and her teeth and he's going to have a bad time if he doesn't come soon, so he's stroking himself and the movement shakes them both because he just needs to come so _fucking_ hard. She's trying to touch his cock, to wrap her warm fingers around it, but if he didn't get to touch her, she doesn't get to do it to him, either, and he holds her hands out of the way. The noise she makes against his lips is a whimper and he wants to hear it again but he has to break the kiss to speak.

He nods to his unmade bed.

“Get on your back,” he says. He's shakingly close and she's still got that last bit of clinging perfume as she moves. Knees bent, she's spreading her legs so he can fuck her and he'll bury himself in her one day soon and feel her around him when he comes, but not tonight. He pushes up between her legs so he can bend down to get his mouth on her nipple. His tongue is wet and his spit soaks the lace that someone else bought her and when he sucks, the sound she makes is what does it. He straightens, rising up onto his knees because he's going to leave this on her.

“I'm coming,” he tells her, warning, a fraction of a second before the first wave hits, and he's pumping it out of himself and onto her stomach and chest. Her hand is between her legs and she's twisting beneath him as the white streaks of come are flung across the black material and she can tell them whatever she wants after this, but right now, she's his. Maybe he's loud, too, but he doesn't notice. Just the sigh as it ends and the pads of her fingers are finding it.

The seconds are short but perfect.

And then the stupid size of what they've done is in the room with them, the blank screen of Rey's live stream still on his monitor. Ben climbs off of the bed, and clicks out of everything in a flood of guilt. Somehow, the spreadsheet is the most embarrassing and he hopes she hasn't seen that he's documented her favorite Jello flavor — watermelon — like she's a newly discovered species that he's studying. His desktop background is a foggy nebula.

“I'll send the money back to you tomorrow,” Rey says. “I didn't mean for you to...”

It hurts, even left dangling and unfinished.

“Is that why you're in here? Because I paid you?” He flips his closet light on to dig around for a clean hand towel. He finds one and keeps it folded to cover his monogram because that seems both juvenile and wildly out of place for a come rag. He drags it over Rey's belly, scooping his hand to catch the spill of it in the towel.

“No, I just thought maybe you didn't mean to.” Everything she says is painful, and she's so detached, it's like she's going over their grocery list.

“It was on purpose. Keep it.” He dabs at some errant drops on her side. “Sorry, I think I ruined this thing.” This great thing of hers that he just utterly fucked up because he was horny.

Rey waves it aside. “I don't re-wear them.” As if to demonstrate, she slips the straps from her shoulders and starts to peel it off. Her breasts are more perfect than he imagined.

“Why _did_ you come in here?”

Rey wriggles her hips out of the lingerie and once it's off of her, it's just a handful of damp lace. And she is naked on his bed, where he wakes up hard.

“Because I've thought about fucking my roommate since I moved in,” she says plainly, sitting up. She gestures to his computer. “And that wasn't the first time I've said your name when I was having an orgasm.”

She is beautiful. She tastes good, her voice is like slowly melted chocolate, and she is standing up, and moving in, staring at his mouth.

And Ben pulls back. He can stop this mistake before it starts, at least.

“I'm in love with you,” he says. “So don't do it if you don't mean it.”

Even in the near-dark, he knows the exact hazel of her eyes.

“What should I do if I really...” She's closer. “... _really_ mean it?”

“Anything you want.”

It feels like a first kiss. Like everything before it was practice and he can't even remember names because maybe there was only ever her. She pulls him down or lifts herself up but they're meeting everywhere that matters, and there's so much of her bare skin to touch. He doesn't tease, doesn't need to wait for her because she's the one urging and getting more.

“Use your fingers,” she says. He's too slow to get them in, apparently, because she's pushing him in herself. She's tight from the plug and unbelievably wet, and he tells himself it's lube but he's not completely sure. But he is sure that she's letting him take over and that she's pulling him against her and she's going to tell him things while they do this, in this new place they're making. He leaves gasping kisses across her shoulder.

“I got off to every video.”

If he didn't just come, this would do it — the way she's rolling her hips into his hand and gripping his fingers and sharing secrets. But she's a beacon and all of his attention is on her, and he doesn't even have to think about what loving her in the light will mean, because right now it's just this. She's it.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Your hands— ” The thought ends in a moan and Rey leans back to watch the shadow of his arm reaching down, of his hand between her legs. “Let me see it.”

She's so ready from her last orgasm, and he barely has to work at it. Just rocks his fingers and holds her up and breathes the hidden parts of her in.

“You're going to come on my fingers?”

She's past words now, and only nods her head as the slipping starts. His room has all of the sounds he's dreamed of — wet and panting and surprised, and he immediately wants to do it again.

Draped against him, she's catching her breath while he strokes her hair with his clean hand. Maybe it's weird to ask his rooommate if she wants to spend the night, but the urge is there. Especially when she looks up at him, chin digging into his chest.

“Was that a collab?” he asks.

It's her laugh — her same familiar laugh — and he won't tell her again tonight that he loves her because there's probably such a thing as too much.

But he does the next day, and every day after that.

And she always says it back.

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt-](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts/status/1299738582970589196)   
>  _Ben starts a YouTube cooking show but only shows his hands as he's self conscious about his face. He's very confused by all the thirsty comments and asks his best friend Rey for help deciphering what the youths speak of._
> 
> Hungry for another modern AU?  
> [Good Fences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026203/chapters/65978914) (E;13k two shot) Witch!Rey/Vampire!Ben neighbors AU
> 
> Care for some fluffy canonverse cooking?  
> [The Art of Adjustment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913334) (T;4k one shot) Redeemed Ben Solo likes to cook in the Resistance base's kitchen late at night. Rey likes to watch.
> 
> @quamquam20


End file.
